Atonement
by Chefie1
Summary: Set after Ep. 4x21. They have agreed to renew their vows and move forward. But, can they really?
1. Chapter 1

Watching him sleep was always something I loved to do. Whether he was slumped over on the couch with his head titled back and mouth open as he softly snored, or sprawled out on his back in our bed, with one arm tucked beneath the pillow. I enjoyed getting lost in his tired, but tranquil and handsome face. So much that I purposely resisted falling asleep first so that I could engage in my favorite pastime, which began when we got our first apartment together on 81st street. Many nights he would stay up late studying, numerous books and pages of notes from impending cases sprawled out across the couch and coffee table. Amongst the chaos, there I would find him, asleep and undisturbed, while I stood by wearing my favorite t-shirt of his, falling more in love.

I have always admired Peter as a man — I still do. He was everything I dreamed, and even more once he gave me our two beautiful children. I thought I lost that dream along with that man 3 years ago, until he proved to me once he was released from prison that he had atoned and changed. That he still loved us and was willing to do whatever it took to get back on track.

Now, as he lays on the other side of the bed beneath the crinkled sheets, naked and facing me, I can't resist reaching out my hand to run along his toned bicep. His warm flesh is smooth beneath my touch, igniting flashbacks of heated moments a few hours ago. It was when we were on the campaign bus. I stared at him long and hard for a minute, taking a moment to gather my thoughts and courage. Making him promise to never hurt me again was certainly not a guarantee, but the love and sincerity in his eyes reassured me that he would try his hardest, leading me to eventually answer his proposition to renew our vows in Hawaii with a confident and excited yes. Peter couldn't keep his hands off of me after that. Feather light caresses from his lips to my neck, deep, longing kisses filled with an arduous need as his hands moved across my body, his task of looking over the poll numbers quickly forgotten. I smile at the memory. Since the entire scandal had turned our life upside down and he was released from prison, I was the one to initiate any sexual contact between us. He allowed everything to be on my terms, simply following my lead, being a ready and willing partner.

But tonight, it was different.

I watched him call Eli and instruct him to cancel the rest of his meetings for the evening, and that he was going home to spend time with his family. Of course his sudden change of plans alarmed me. I didn't want to give Zach and Grace more false hope, other than we were still working on it. There were so many reasons that crossed my mind as to why I wanted to shield my children from our reckless tango, if I were to put a name on it. Without concrete plans to rebuild our family, and the fact that _we —_Peter and I_— _weren't completely back to normal, seemed reason enough. And simply because I was _still scared_. Yes, he had promised me completely, and I believed him with every part of my soul. But still, I wasn't 100% yet, and neither were we.

Per the kid's requests, we ordered pizza from Giordano's and ate in the dining room as we had so many times before, laughing, sharing stories. Our children were ecstatic to have both of us home, and being civil. I saw that especially Peter enjoyed this much-needed family time. The looks he kept giving me across the table should have alerted me that he would not return to his apartment tonight, regardless of how much I may have objected. And the two hefty glasses of red wine I had certainly did not help my case when I weakly tried to convince him he needed to leave and get his rest for the campaign, once the dishes were done and the kids had gone to bed.

I feel a tingling between my thighs as I recall how he locked me in my bedroom and coaxed me back onto the bed. I whispered my refusal, spouting every reason in the book as to why he shouldn't be here, why I should not allow him to seduce me when everything was still so fresh. I watched him with low eyes, as his lips curved into his trademark grin, while he removed his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt, leaving me breathless and anticipating what was to come. Even after being with him for eighteen years, I still found him ridiculously sexy.

He slowly walked towards my seated position on the edge of the bed, resembling the determined and wanton lover as he did when he came into the bathroom that night and made love to me like never before atop my bathroom sink. His eyes burned with passion and willpower. And love.

As I continued to weakly argue why he should leave, he ignored me as he leaned forward and pushed the hem of my skirt up to the tops of my thighs and spread them apart so that he could kneel down and rest between my legs. At that point, I was barely speaking a coherent syllable, as all I could hear was my racing heart and mouth fall dry at the anticipation of what was to come.

The memory makes me smile as I now clutch the sheets tighter to my naked chest and scoot across the bed to lie face-to-face with him on his pillow. I reach out a hand and caress his strong jaw before leaning in to kiss his lips, waiting for the moment that he responds. It doesn't take long before he is coaxed from the world of sleep and sighs before speaking my name.

"Alicia?"

"Shh, just relax."

Kissing him once more, I let go of my grip on the sheets and quickly push him onto his back and position myself atop his body. That causes him to become fully awake as he now stares up at me with curious, sleep laced eyes.

Making love for nearly 2 hours straight a few hours ago, he probably thought I was too tired for a second round. That was the thing about Peter and I, a secret no one knew. We had amazing sex. Addictive, tantric, hot sex. Being incredibly attracted to my husband, and even more as he aged, was something I was certain would never die. Our ability to connect like this was one thing that would never go wrong. Perhaps that's why it hurt more at the mere thought of him sleeping with Amber, than to hear it. _It_ _hurt like hell._ To finally acknowledge that she got to share something that was so precious to us, something that was completely mine…it was still hard to accept.

"Are you tired?" I whisper as I lean down and plant my lips on his neck, kissing the skin in the lightest of kisses as he did to me prior. When he brings his hands to my waist, and then trails them down to cup my bottom, I can't resist exhaling a soft moan.

"No." His voice is low and heavy, almost resembling a growl. "And I'm guessing neither are you."

He squeezes my ass tightly within the palms of his large hands, slightly shifting beneath me so that I feel the tip of his flaccid organ brush against my sex. I can't resist the urge to begin sliding myself across his flesh, teasing him.

I gaze down into his eyes the best I can in the darkened room and lift myself so that I'm sitting completely upright. I hear his breathing increase from my teasing and I know, if I don't join us now, he will demand I do so in seconds. It turns me on when he takes the dominant role. Being a strong woman is not easy. Thankfully, I married a man who allowed me to be that woman who could take on the world without little help, but when needed, he was my knight in shining armor, waiting on the sidelines to rescue me, to remind me that every woman needed a set of big arms to hold her up when she was about to fall. That was what I loved most about Peter.

"Now, baby," he whispers as one of his hands leaves my bottom to slide up the plane of my stomach and ultimately land on one of my breasts.

I can feel the heat swirl inside of stomach as he begins to caress my taut peaks, then squeeze my tender flesh. I whimper, wanting him to use his mouth instead of his hand. Catching the sly grin on his face, he can read my mind as I read his, silently telling me to join us and he will do as I want.

Stilling my hips, I lift slightly to grab his hard length and position it at my entrance before slowly sliding down upon him, inch-by-inch. I bite my lower lip at the sensation. Once again, I pick up the pace of my hips as I rock atop him slowly. He's always loved when I rode him slow and steady. Never in a hurry, simply taking the time to enjoy our union.

Placing my hand atop his that is still on my breasts, I guide his movement briefly before floating my hands back to land on the tops of his strong thighs for stability, and toss my head back. He's always felt so good inside. Maybe that was why I initially began to engage in a sexual relationship with him only. I should have known that wasn't going to last long, it being purely physical. This man was once my beginning and end, my anchor, my best friend…my everything. Having just a piece of him, my heart wouldn't allow. Despite the pain that threatened to break me, I missed us. I missed being his wife in every sense of the word…and our marriage. I quickly realized I not only wanted all of him still, but I _needed_ all of him again.

And I got him.

I moan his name softly as I feel myself getting closer to the point of losing it. His member is arched perfectly inside of my cavity, stroking me in a way that could make me sing. The pleasure becomes insurmountable as our heavy breathing fills the room and the heat between our sexes being the only thing that matters in the world right now.

The second I feel him rise from the bed to encircle his strong arms around me and hold me close, do I nearly let go right then and there. I roll my head forward to look down at him as he envelops one of my breasts in his mouth and sucks greedily. My fingers coil themselves within his short hair as my own hair falls to blanket his tender action. The familiar roaring begins to sound off in my ears as I feel them burn and my arms wrap around his neck as he sends me to a place only he can.

His eager hands glide down my back to rest on my ass once more as he lets my nipple fall from his mouth and stares up into my face while rocking me atop his groin.

"Well, well…soon-to-be Mrs. First Lady, I do believe you are a pro at this."

My mind is too far in a sexual fog to hear clearly, let alone provide him with one of my usual witty comebacks. All I want to do is release the powerful storm he brewed inside of me.

"Peter…" I breathlessly moan when he pushes me harder onto him. I feel him everywhere now.

"You like that, babe?"

"Yes…" I toss my head back once more when he thrusts up into me, "yes…"

Even with my eyes closed, I can feel his gaze upon me. He has always told me I looked most beautiful when we were in the throes of sex. According to him, my raw, naked, inhibited form was a sight of true beauty that he would treasure. Forever.

Just when I feel myself about to let go, does he turn the tables and pin me down to the bed in one fluid motion. Positioning my hands above my head and holding them down, he laces our fingers together before driving into my core…shallow and hard, deep and unyielding.

My body arches beneath him as I cry into his mouth once he captures my lips with his. I am certain now that choosing to renew my vows with him was the right thing to do. We need this fresh start. We need to restore the foundation that is our marriage and prove to our children, and the city of Chicago that we are one powerful couple not be challenged.

Peter seizes one of my thighs and yanks it higher around his waist, allowing him to fall deeper into my cave. It's then that I can no longer hold back. My fingers squeeze his tightly as I tilt my head back into the pillow and exhale short gasps, using all of my will power not to scream. Having children still living at home has taught me to be mindful, even when I consciously feel I can't.

He buries his face into my neck as he soon releases himself inside of me seconds later, his powerful thrusting causing the bed to slightly knock against the wall. The sound makes me smile dreamily as I slowly come down from my high.

I guess that minutes have only passed, but it feels like hours once the feelings of ecstasy have left us with nothing but heated flesh against heated flesh. He lays atop my body as we both breathe heavily, trying to return back to normal. Releasing my hands, he slides his own down my sides to wrap around my body as I wrap mine around his neck and kiss into his hair. I have always cherished these moments with him. I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Our sporadic sex in bathrooms and on the campaign bus didn't allow us to enjoy our renewed intimacy. It was and is, still desperately needed.

"I want to move back in," he mumbles against my chest before kissing the valley between my breasts.

My hands freeze their task of trailing my fingernails across his back lightly. Where is this coming from?

"Why?" It may sound insensitive, but it's all I can think of at the moment. Everything is perfect as is, to me anyway. I haven't had time to process the romantic notion of what happens after I _completely_ take him back. And I certainly didn't want to do it now.

Lifting his head from my chest, he kisses my chin before meeting my eyes. "Well, why shouldn't I? We're going to renew our vows soon. It only seems right."

"Peter…" I sigh as I close my eyes, carefully choosing my words. "What about when you're elected governor? You're going to have the governor's mansion. What would be the point in you primarily living here?"

"That's the thing. I want to stay with my family and I know right now, it's not an option for you all to move there. I'll only stay in Springfield when needed."

I don't want to have this conversation right now. Its making my head hurt.

"Tell you what. We'll talk in the morning, okay?" I say in my infamous mommy tone I only use on Grace when she is relentless on a subject and I don't have a concrete answer, instead just wanting her to drop the issue.

"I'm holding you to that." Kissing my lips again, he finally removes himself from my body and climbs from the bed. "Now, how about a shower?"

I cock my head to the side and stare up at his tall and lean, naked frame, which is illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the window. Against my will, I smile like I did in the early days of our relationship—like a kid on Christmas morning—and grasp his extended hand, following him into the bathroom, wondering just what door I have opened by saying…yes.


	2. Chapter 2

"Remember we used to come here when you were pregnant with Zach and couldn't sleep? You claimed the water soothed you." He grins at me before focusing his eyes back on the road.

"It honestly did."

I smile, genuinely touched that he remembered. When he extends his hand and rests it on my jean-clad thigh, I resist my first instinct to cease the contact. Instead, I calm my nerves and inhale a shaky breath, surprising myself when I place my own hand atop his. Being completely at ease with him again is something I will have to relearn. I can't help but wonder if I truly, ever will. It was easy to block out the hurt that was still very present amidst the throes of sex. But when I wasn't on top of him and he wasn't pinning me down, making me his, it felt a bit strange. I suppose this is where the true testament of my love and commitment to our marriage comes into play. Can I really go through this again?

Shifting my gaze towards the passing landscape out the car window, I stare in utter amazement as we cruise down the road leading to Chicago's infamous Lakefront trail. The city has always been a beautiful sight to me at night. There she sat, on the opposite side of the lake in all her glory, shining bright and strong.

Peter brings the car to a stop and parks on the grass, which has a clear sign saying 'No Parking Allowed'. Clearly he's taking advantage of finding such a spot when all the crowds have most likely disbursed to experience the nightlife. My smile grows wider as I recall him doing the same thing when we dated and even in the early days of our marriage. Gosh, our life used to be everything I could ever want.

"Why are we here?" I ask him as he unbuckles his seat belt.

"To talk. Didn't think I forgot, did you?"

I swallow a lump in my throat, watching as he reaches into the backseat to grab a rolled up blanket.

"No…"

He smiles sneakily, before exiting the car, walking around to my side to open the door. Forever the gentleman. Taking his hand, I reluctantly climb from my seat and follow him to our old spot. It was right on the edge, where grass met sidewalk, dead in the middle of the curved trail, with only water separating us from our boasting city we called home. I came here once after the scandal broke. I needed the solitude and peace, the isolation from prying eyes. With cameras flashing everywhere I went and my children constantly crying to me for answers, or simply crying, I quickly reached a breaking point. Coming here only made things worse then. My mind would flood with memories of Peter and I sitting here talking, watching joggers go by, laughing, snuggling, enjoying impromptu picnics, having sex…

I inhale deeply, turning my attention back on my husband who has spread out the large blanket on the grass, patting it, telling me to come sit beside him. I fold my hands together as I go to him, trying to push the enormous fear of doubt from my mind.

"We may not get a moment like this for awhile once the election is over," he starts.

I can only nod, continuing to stare straight ahead at our view.

"I don't think I've seen Zach and Grace as happy as I've seen them today in a long time," he whispers.

A smile cracks at my lips. "Oh, I just think they're excited about going to Hawaii. They don't care their parents have kissed and made up."

He laughs heartily. "I think it matters to Grace. She's resented me for a while. Since I came back from prison, she hasn't been my same little girl."

"She grew up is all."

"Yeah, but seeing you in pain only solidified her thoughts."

The playful grin leaves my lips and I hang my head, now staring down at the ring he gave me last night. My heart grows heavy as I recall breakfast this morning with the kids. The day didn't start as I planned. From Owen barging into my room and nearly turning into a statue from the sight of Peter and I in the same bed—thankfully clothed—to our children overjoyed that we're giving it a second chance and going to Hawaii, to end with an unusually quiet Grace surprising everyone by speaking her mind, laying into her father about his failures as a man and questioning how renewing our vows will seal his fidelity once and for all.

Peter joked our daughter definitely got her gusto from me, but I saw the hurt in his eyes from her words. We delayed our talk as I encouraged him to spend the day with her. They needed to communicate and work through this anger she had obviously been holding in for awhile. I was grateful for the distraction. It allowed me more time to sit and think about where we truly were going from here.

"Grace will be okay. She's older now. She's finally learning that life isn't what it truly seems. And she will always love you, no matter what."

Propping an arm on his bent knee, he angles his body to face me. "Maybe." Reaching for my hand, he brings it to his lips for a kiss. "Do you want to stay in separate homes?" The hint of caution in his voice makes me nervous.

I tuck my hair behind my ears as I hesitantly meet his eyes. "No. But if we decide to live together again, shouldn't we get a house instead of staying in an apartment?"

"Is that what you want?"

"I just…" I take a breath. "I just want to go back to the time when we were happy…living in Highland Park…"

He drops my hand as he rakes a hand through his hair. "I do too. But, I think we're better off here in the city. Both our jobs are here. It's a logical choice." I just look at him, my eyes no doubt mirroring all the questions that are swarming through my head. "Alicia, what is it?"

I know I'm beginning to frustrate him by not giving a concrete answer. "I'm scared, Peter. I'm just scared."

"Of what?"

"Of us…of giving it another chance."

"Why?" I can't believe he just asked me that. Men are truly clueless. "Aside from the obvious reasons," he quickly adds.

"The _obvious reasons_ are why I'm hesitant."

He sits up straighter and stares ahead, avoiding my defiant eyes. "I thought the purpose of us renewing our vows was to put everything in the past, to move forward."

"It is."

"Then why can't you?"

That was a very good question. The past four years, I have tried in every way possible to move forward for the sake of my children, and then for myself. Slowly but surely, I thought I was. Each time I looked at myself in the mirror, I began to fall in love with this new woman I had become. And every time I was with my husband, I gradually began to trust and love him again. So what was holding me back?

"I don't know."

He looks at me again, the expression on his face difficult to read. "Is it because of Will?"

I should have known the 'Will talk' was coming soon. I ended things with Will in my own way, but never dealt with my feelings afterward. This was a topic that Peter and I avoided, just like we never spoke of Amber Madison or Kalinda. It was dangerous territory.

"No, it's not because of Will, Peter."

"Oh, but I think it is," he scoffs.

"You know," I say with a laugh, "I never understood how someone who cheated on their wife _repeatedly_, could be so jealous when she found someone else."

"Alicia…" He quickly rises from the blanket and sticks his hands in his pockets, beginning to pace. "Don't."

Closing my eyes, I pull my knees into my chest and take a moment to calm down. I don't want to fight. This past year has reminded me what it felt like when Peter and I were on the same page, when we were truly a team and completely devoted to one another. It felt damned good. But no matter how many laughs and I love you's we shared, he broke us, and I in turn made bad judgments as well. It's going to take more than a renewal of vows to fully recover from that.

I continue to remain quiet and consider his proposition while he paces, truly not knowing what to say anymore. Did I really want to go to work and come home to my children and husband, or was I more satisfied with this arrangement we had? Seeing each other when we wanted without the obligation of sharing a life, having to deal with each other day-in and day-out.

"Why did you have your IUD removed?"

Lifting my head, I stare at him for a moment, completely taken aback by the question. Judging by the serious look on his face, it seems he had given my previous revelation a lot of thought. Granted I have resorted to only taking the pill again, it still strikes me oddly.

"Because I…h-hated you." He begins to walk back over to me, realizing the weight of my brutally honest answer.

He leans in close to my face, his voice barely a whisper when he speaks. "Does apart of you still hate me?"

I look into his pensive eyes, surprised he didn't dispute my answer nor want a more thorough explanation.

"No. I'm moving on from that."

"Grace told me she used to hear you cry yourself to sleep at night." The tears instantly flood my eyes as my shocked expression leads him to confirm my questions with a simple nod of his head. "She also told me that my hurting you, made her hate me." His own voice is low and unstable now. I don't know what to say…to think. I always thought I concealed the body slicing cries at night so well. "I want us to live together again, honey. Whether it be at your apartment, in a bigger apartment, or in a house. I want this not only for us, but for our children. They need to see what love really means."

The tears are involuntarily sliding down my cheeks as I watch him sit back down beside me, wiping away my pain before pulling me into his arms. I hate showing that I'm weak. I can put on a strong façade, but when it comes to my children, my love for them outshines everything I thought mattered. Hearing Peter say just how much Grace was hurt by everything, was like reliving it all over again when I watched my once innocent and carefree daughter experience a sadness I couldn't shield her from.

Gripping his shirt, I take comfort in our embrace—my head nestled in the crook of his neck as he gently runs his fingers up and down my arm. This used to be my safe place. Regardless of what went wrong, I found my strength again in his arms.

"Okay," I whisper after a moment, "let's find a house."

"You mean that?"

Nodding, I pull back from him, prepared to share under what conditions I want when my cellphone begins to ring. Pulling it from my pocket, I sigh when I see the caller. Wiping my eyes, I begin to rise from the blanket. One glance at him and I realize, he's seen my screen, too. I immediately begin to explain as if I've committed a crime.

"I've been waiting to hear about a client's condition f—"

"Honey, It's alright," he nods slowly, not wanting details. This is certainly a first. "Take it. We can talk about everything when we get home."

Smiling, I walk a few feet away and inhale a breath before answering the call. "Hi, Will."

* * *

_Fyi, this will not be about that ridiculous love triangle, for those who are wondering! _


	3. Chapter 3

"I thought you had to go to work."

Glancing up at my daughter, I avert my attention back to spooning a heaping amount of pasta primavera on the four plates I've carefully arranged on the island. Thankfully, the call from Will was merely a heads up, allowing me to spend the rest of the evening with my family.

"It wasn't urgent. Did you find the bread basket?"

"Yep. Table is set and the garlic bread is still warm."

Nodding, I ditch the pasta spoon for a pair of tongs instead. Much, much easier. "Can you let your Dad and brother know dinner is ready?"

"Sure." She walks over to me and stands close, saying nothing, just content in watching me plate our dinner. I enjoy the moment for a matter of seconds before it feels a little strange. She hasn't done this since she was a little girl.

"Okay, _what_?" I say with a laugh.

She tucks her hair behind her ears as she reaches out to grab a falling linguine noodle just before it hits the countertop, and slips it into her mouth.

"Nothing. I just…I've always liked watching you cook. It's one of the things I miss when you didn't work."

"Probably because you liked tasting everything and whined about being so full before we sat down to eat."

I playfully nudge her shoulder and set the now empty pot into the sink. Reaching across the island, I grab the cheese grater, quickly dropping in a small block of fresh Parmesan and begin to crank the handle, instantly showering each heaping tower of pasta with the topping. This has always been one of favorite dishes to make. It was one of my father's favorites.

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

The careful and soft tone of her voice immediately makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I never know what she's thinking these days, let alone what's going to fly out of her mouth.

"Of course." I set down the grater and give her my undivided attention.

"Why did you forgive Dad?"

I should have known these types of questions were going to be asked more frequently and soon, by both children. From this one especially. Although it had been a significant amount of time, she was still struggling to accept this thing her father and I called a marriage. I guess we are to blame for her puzzled perception. All that I could offer them was that we are trying.

Carefully choosing my words, I inhale a deep breath and step closer to her. "It wasn't easy to forgive him. There are many reasons why I chose to do so, and reasons why apart of me is still struggling to accept my decision. But, as tough as it was, I made that choice from a place of love." The sudden emotion I feel shocks me even, and I can see it does Grace, too. She immediately reaches out to rub my arm as I swallow the lump in my throat. "I love your father very much. I probably always will. He is my first love, you know," I whisper.

"Really?" Her eyes grow wide and shine as bright as festival lights. Clearly, she's intrigued by this new information.

"Yes. When you love someone as much as I love him, despite what they do, it's hard to turn your back on that completely. That's why I forgave him. Simply because…I love him."

Dabbing my eyes, I stare down into her own questioning orbs, hoping she's satisfied with my answer. I truly don't want to take a trip down memory lane to settle her never-ending curiosity.

"Okay, well…if you can forgive him out of love, then so can I."

Trying to gain control of my quivering lip, I try to smile instead as I engulf her in a hug, wondering how I was blessed with this little girl as my daughter. I know she's struggling with the realization that her daddy isn't truly the most amazing man she thought he was. But she's trying. It's all that we can do, really.

"Hey, everything alright in here?"

We break apart to see Peter stroll into the kitchen, nibbling on a cookie from the dozen Owen brought by this morning from the bakery around the corner.

"Yes." Grace smiles brightly as she grabs two of the plates and begins to head towards the dining room. She stops just before crossing into the other room and beams up at him. "Dad, is Mom your first, true love?"

Peter nearly chokes on his cookie as he looks down at our daughter, completely caught off guard from the question. "What?"

"Mom said you are her first love."

"Grace," I groan, "Please go set the plates on the table. The pasta is going to get cold. And tell Zach to get off the computer and come eat."

"Okayyy," she sings with a satisfied smirk on her face, giving us both a mischievous look, before going to do as I asked.

I don't meet his eyes, but boy, do I feel them burning a hole through me. I finish topping the other two plates with cheese, then pick them up and begin to head towards the dining room with him following close behind. I ignore his proximity to me as I set them in our respective positions. The second I lean across the table to switch the placing of the fork, does he place his hands on my waist and pull me flush against him.

"I'm your first love, huh?" he murmurs into my ear. My eyes nearly bulge when I feel him pressed against my behind.

"Peter, no! Not now." I try to remove his hands from my waist but he's too strong. Seizing my hands, his lips begin to move along my neck, as my eyes dart around the room, wondering from which entry the kids will walk in.

"If it makes you feel any better, you are mine, too."

Smiling, my heart does somersaults as I allow him to have his way, but only for a few seconds. "Nice to know." I swat his hand away that's beginning to sneak under the edge of my shirt. "We can play later. Let's eat before the food gets cold."

"You know, I miss you cooking all the time."

"Your daughter said the same thing."

He holds me even tighter, making sure I feel his need as he speaks low, his voice just above a whisper. "I forgot how much it turns me on."

I attempt to move from him, only to have him pull me back. "Are you going to let me finish this or not?"

"Probably not. I. Want. You."

He takes my earlobe between his teeth and bites it lightly before teasing it with his lips. I grip the back of the chair for support as my head drops forward.

"Dinner…first," I whisper weakly.

"Hey, Da—"

We both freeze as we look up to see Zach and Grace catch us in our flirty embrace. I don't know whose face is redder, theirs or ours.

"Uh, should we come back?" Grace asks.

"No," I quickly respond, moving away from their father's clawing hands. Clearing my throat, I walk towards the other end of the table. "Sit down so we can eat."

Taking a breath and a seat, I attempt to calm my racing heart as I refuse to meet my husband's eyes. I can't help but feel as if we're newlyweds again. As much as I want to be unnerved by his constant affection and adoration, I would be lying to myself if I said I didn't like it.

"It's nice to see you two like that," Zach says, before stuffing his mouth with pasta.

"It's been awhile, huh?" Peter notes, reaching for a piece of garlic bread from the basket.

"Yeah." Grace takes a sip of her water, and then averts her gaze to her father. "Is that what you meant by making it right, Dad?"

We all grow quiet as we stare at him, waiting with baited breath for his response.

"Yes. Your Mom and I are doing our best to make it right this time. So, you two will just have to get used to seeing us like those kids at your school," he says, finishing with a wink directed at me.

"Gross!" they cry in unison.

I smirk. "What kids?" Picking up my fork, I twirl it within the pasta.

Laughing, Zach begins to explain. "When Dad picked us up last week, there was this couple making out—"

"Tongue and all," adds Grace. I give her a knowing look.

"Up against this tree near the cars. They were really going at it. I think they're on suspension now."

"They should be." Peter takes a hefty gulp from his wine glass. "I thought they were having sex," he says, wiggling his brows in my direction.

"At Capstone?" I'm surprised to hear this.

"Yes, Mom. It's not as perfect as you think."

For a moment, I wonder if this is a dig she's trying to make for me pulling her out of public school just when she was beginning to like it.

"Well, in the spirit of getting things right and back on track, what do you two think about moving into a house?" he asks.

"Our old house?" Grace asks excitedly.

Peter props a hand on his leg as he looks to me to explain.

"No, no. Your father and I thought since we've decided we'll all live under one roof again, either we can purchase a bigger apartment or buy another home."

"The Highland Park house sold last month so that's not an option," he adds.

"So, what do you think?" I reach for my glass of wine, and bring it to my lips, curious as to what they will say.

"I like it here," says Zach.

"What? Why? It's small," counters his sister.

"No it's not. We have more than enough room. You just want a bigger room to have bible study at home."

"I do not!"

"Okay, okay you two, settle down," Peter bellows. "Why don't you guys think about it, then we can have this discussion after the election."

"Will things change once you're Governor?" asks Zach.

"I don't know if I will even win."

"I'm sure you will." I offer him a reassuring smile.

"We'll see how everything goes. But until then, let's just enjoy this delicious meal your Mom has prepared, alright?"

As I drink greedily from my glass, I can't help but notice the shadow of doubt that is splashed across his face. We never talked about the election much outside of the bus, and I know he's been particularly stressed while on this campaign, but I was certain he had gained a significant amount of solid support over Kresteva. There was no question where the voters were leaning; it would more than likely be a blind-sided win.

Peter has always been a confident, assured and assertive man, especially where his career was concerned. But to see him express that brief doubt…just what does it mean...for him and for us?


	4. Chapter 4

_**Sorry this is so long!**_

* * *

Walking into the family room to find Zach and Peter on opposite ends of the couch, slouched in the exact same manner, warms my heart. He is growing up to look so much like his father when he was younger, in his 20's. Although he doesn't have a personality that is quite domineering and commanding, he does possess that same charm and caring nature as Peter. It's what wins me over when I fail at standing firm on my decision of 'no' at times.

Clutching the bowl of popcorn, I tiptoe into the room and sit between them in the middle of the couch. Neither one acknowledges me, only reaches their hands into the bowl, their eyes glued to some documentary about World War II.

"I'm sure there was something more lively than this to watch." Stuffing popcorn into my mouth, I begin to reach for the remote when Zach gently grabs my arm.

"Please, Mom. It's almost over."

"And it's almost time for you to go to bed. Don't even think of arguing. Grace ruined that for you."

Yes, my feisty daughter cannot properly function without at least 8-hours of sleep. She's always in bed by 9pm, no matter the day. Her brother, on the other hand, was a naturally born night owl.

"I can't believe I still have a bedtime at 17," he murmurs under his breath. And here I thought midnight was reasonable.

"What was that?" I say louder than usual. Teenagers. I always dreaded when my sweet babies would reach this age.

"Hun, it'll be over in a few minutes," Peter whispers as he grabs a handful of popcorn and winks at me. I give him my best scolding look, leading him to chuckle and pull me against his side.

I retreat back quickly, forgetting we have an audience. I'm immediately aware of my reaction. My eyes shoot to Zach, whose eyes are fastened on us. We—more like I—have been careful not to show affection in front of them. It's obvious my husband isn't so compliant. Even though they walked in on us earlier, I'm still trying to grasp this whole notion of letting myself go and just be with him. Well, I should add, at least when others are present.

"Okay…um…yeah, I'll go to bed now. This is awkward." Zach hastily rises from the couch. "Goodnight mom," he kisses my cheek, "Night, dad."

"Goodnight, son," Peter calls out, watching him flee the room before focusing back on me. "What was that about?"

I shrug. "Nothing. I'm still getting used to," I wave a hand between us, "_this_ again."

He pinches the skin between his forehead, taking a deep breath. My mixed signals are driving him batty I know.

"Okay. Well, would you like to…cuddle beneath the blanket with me?" He smiles cheekily as he grabs the afghan from behind him and spreads it out across us.

Setting the bowl on the end table beside him, I reluctantly lean into his embrace as he fully covers us.

"I won't stay here longer than five minutes if we continue to watch this," I gripe.

"You used to like watching documentaries with me."

I look up into his face, a naughty grin possessing my lips. "Well, as I recall, it was more like the documentaries watched us."

Wiggling his brows, he leans back and peers down the hall, more than likely checking that both of the kid's doors are closed. "Care to act like we're 20-something and falling in love again?"

"Be my guest."

I watch in seemingly slow motion as he leans in close, cups my face, and presses his mouth onto mine. He leads us into a kiss that is deep and slow, so slow that we are giving and receiving each other's breaths. I moan softly as I wrap my arm around his neck and lay back into the couch, prompting him to angle half of his body on top of mine.

I forgot what it felt like to kiss him like this. It seemed, as we got older, the habit of obligatory kisses took place of meaningful, yearning ones like this. His hand leaves my face as it trails down my neck to come to a halt at my chest. He seizes one of my breasts within his hands, beginning to caress them in a way I like.

I'll admit, that night when I came home frustrated from my encounter with Will at the office, and had sex with Peter in the maid's room, I honestly wasn't thinking. I wasn't even sure my husband still wanted me in that way…that he was attracted to me. Hell, I didn't think that _I _would still desire him. Yet, despite my doubts, I strutted towards that bedroom, Will burning on the forefront of my mind. But when I saw Peter stretched out on the bed and his handsome face beaming up at me, oblivious and carefree, I could think of no one else but him.

It was a relief when I mounted him and he was ready and willing. His thick muscle pressed between my thighs felt like home…a home that I could remain in forever.

"Peter…" I breathe, "Let's go to the bedroom."

He has successfully pinned me beneath him on the couch as he now works on lowering my yoga pants from my hips. Our positioning is so awkward. Because he is such a tall man, for him to even attempt to lie horizontally on this couch is beyond farcical. He barely fits.

"No, here," he says, and then swallows my mouth again.

I suppress a moan once he dips his fingers into my lacy, cheeky panties, mentally thankful that I didn't miss my appointment to get waxed earlier today. He strokes me lightly, then more aggressively, his fingers spreading the folds of my sex before sliding his index finger up and down my dripping center ever so lightly.

My arms curl themselves around his neck as my hips thrust upward from his teasing, trying my best not to make a sound. He hears my poor attempt in concealing my cries and laughs against my cheek.

"I like it when you try to stay in control, even when you know it's impossible."

I slowly open my eyes to meet his darkened ones. Prepared to give him a response, my mouth falls open, but only a gasp rushes from my lips when he begins to rotate the little button that drives me crazy.

"Honey…" I breathe.

"Right here, babe?"

He lowers his mouth to my neck and sucks lightly in a way that toys with my sanity. I'm instantly putty beneath him as he continues to get me wet and ready for him. The feel of his manhood painfully hard and throbbing against my thigh only adds more fuel to our fire.

I'm completely his prisoner as the lust skyrockets through every one of my limbs. Never before would I have allowed this—on the couch like this. But…I don't know. I seem to have had a sexual reawakening in the past few years. My judgment on the matter has completely swung to the opposite pendulum.

"What do you want?" he whispers against my ear, his voice low and hot.

It takes me a second to register his question as I watch him lean up and slide my pants along with my panties down my legs. The confident twinkle in his eyes makes me gulp.

"Anything."

I honestly don't know what to say. Lately, foreplay hasn't been high on my agenda. It's been so long since I've had a regular sex life that I forgot how this much needed teasing could bring spine-shattering orgasms.

"Oh, counselor, I think you can do better than that," he says, with a grin.

He begins to unbutton his casual button down shirt, slipping it from his arms and tossing it onto the floor, leaving him in a white t-shirt. He removes that too.

"How about…"

I momentarily lose my train of thought as he turns off the TV, leaving us blanketed in a darkened room, the under cabinet lights in the kitchen the only sliver of light preventing the apartment from being in complete darkness. Satisfied with this new change, he crawls back atop my body like a lion preparing to devour his prey.

"How about what, Mrs. Florrick?" He purrs the last part, almost challenging me to say the unthinkable.

His hands begin to undo my shirt while I gaze into his eyes as much as I can, feeling like I did in the first days of our marriage. So willing, carefree and wanton.

"I want you to…" I once again lose my vocal ability as his fingers are back occupying themselves between my legs and his mouth is now teasing my nipples through my bra. I'm simply powerless beneath him.

"You want me to taste you?" he whispers against my mouth, sucking my lower lip between his own before kissing me fully. I frame his face fiercely as I moan a deep, "yes," into his mouth.

"How?"

Once again, he prods me for answers that I can't provide. Ending our heated kiss, he slowly begins to slither down my frame, the afghan moving right along with him leaving me exposed. Staring down at my naked, lower half, I watch as he tries to settle himself comfortably between my legs, but fails. Sighing, I begin to protest.

"Peter, I told you, let—"

"Shh! The kids will hear," he whispers.

The confusion possesses every inch of my face. But no, this doesn't alarm my overzealous husband and make him realize we should head towards the bedroom, like I suggested. Oh, no. In one fluid motion, he maneuvers me so that I am half sitting upright on the couch—mostly slouched— as he tugs my lower body to the edge. Moving to the floor, he finally settles comfortably between my legs and places my thighs on his shoulders.

I quickly grab the afghan and wrap it around his shoulders and part of his head. The irritated look on his face says it all.

"Honey, we're—"

"This is my compromise." My tone leaves no room for an alternative.

Shrugging, he begins to kiss my inner thighs, nibbling and sucking on my sensitive skin, watching me intently. I bite my lower lip, wishing he would end the teasing. I've had enough.

"You never answered my question," he says as he leans in closer, dipping his upper body lower to the place I want him most right now.

"Which was?" I rake my hand through his hair.

"How do you want me to taste you?" Leaning in close, he blows softly, the cool breeze only intensifying the heat burning inside of me. "Tell me."

I can feel myself blushing as I respond. "I want you to use your tongue, and…" The gleam in his eyes tells me he's thoroughly enjoying this. "…slide it up…" I gasp when he leans forward and starts kissing a trail from below my belly button, guiding his lips south to my slick haven, "and…down." I don't even recognize the sound of my own voice once I speak the last word.

From the look on his face, he's just as shocked as me that I even provided a response. And he was more than eager to comply. Latching his palms on the tops of my thighs, he leans in close and uses his tongue to please me in the perfect way he does, per my request. I can't resist tugging on his hair at the initial contact, my body arching from the couch and into the air.

"What else?" I barely hear him ask.

All I can think about is his warm tongue, skimming up and down the crevice of my body, slowly, before focusing on the little button that makes me hot, ending with his mouth swallowing me whole, only to repeat the process. It's mind-blowing and body numbing.

He skates his hand up the plane of my trim stomach to unhook my bra, which fastens in the front, wasting not a second to engulf one of my breasts in his large hands. That is my undoing.

"Peter," I moan, my hand gripping his short hair tighter.

He pulls me closer to his mouth, his movements getting more aggressive. My breathing is growing erratic as I clench his hair even tighter. I'm reaching that point and he knows it. I'm afraid to open my eyes, afraid to see the raw hunger that I know fills his. It scares me on some level how sexually uninhibited I can be with him. I have no control at times. Perhaps that was why my accidental pregnancy before we were scheduled to be married, wasn't too much of a surprise.

"Feed me, baby," he whispers, his hands clamping down harder onto the tops of my thighs.

I peer down at him, seeing his head peeking out from beneath the blanket. My mouth parts, my chest rises and falls heavily. With one hand firmly pulling on his hair, I fling the other up behind me to grip the back of the couch for support as I lurch my body into the air.

My eyes are clamped shut tightly as I bite down hard on my lower lip to keep from screaming. His hands move to my bottom, lifting me from the couch to hold me at his lips as if I'm a bowl of soup, containing his source of life, as he eagerly drinks. I can't take it anymore as it immediately hits me, and hard.

It feels like hours, minutes then seconds pass before my entire being is aflame and I can only feel my husband pushing me to the edge. And then I tumble over. I grit out my screams, biting the inside of my cheek so hard that I can taste the blood. My lower half gyrates wildly against his mouth, as he remains permanently glued on his knees, keeping my hips steady so that he can swallow every drop that I have to offer.

Tears sting the corner of my eyes from coming so hard. I'm utterly speechless. My eyes are still closed and I don't think I can open them even if I wanted in this instance. But the second I feel his hands slide up my upper back and pull me fully upright, do I open them and gaze down at him curiously.

"I love watching you," he tells me as he stretches his body upward and angles his head in for a kiss. Cupping his face, I meet his lips, instantly tasting myself. It's a taste I eventually grew accustomed to and something I took pride in.

"Shall we go to the bedroom now?" I ask once we break apart. My voice is throaty, breathless and raspy. I don't know how I'm able to speak.

He stares up at me from between my legs, his arms holding me around my waist as mine encase his neck, while my breasts are practically thrust into his face. He kisses each mound before smiling wickedly at me.

"No."

I look at him questioningly. Although the kid's rooms are a safe distance from here, I still do not trust this. Against my will, I let him pull me from the couch and down onto the floor, for him to gently lean me over the ottoman.

Before I can protest, he is pressed firmly up against my back, his hands busy ridding me of my shirt and bra, then draping the blanket around us once more.

I take a minute and brace myself, knowing what's coming, while he releases himself from his pants. This position has always brought the best of the best in the orgasm department for me. For the first time, I don't know if I'll be able to remain quiet.

"I really think we should move to the bedroom. It's literally right there!" I hiss.

"You worry too much," he says, followed with a kiss to my neck. "I married such a sensible woman."

I can hear his smile as he slowly tilts me forward to partially lie down, and nudges my legs apart. He pushes my hair to one side of my neck as he drags his lips across my shoulder blade, his other hand coming back around the front of my body to tease me.

I can't believe I'm allowing this. In our old house, yes, we had sex any and everywhere. In the kitchen, in the pantry closet, on the stairs, on the dining room table, against the bookcases, on the loveseat, in the garage, on the kids jungle gym, etc. If you guessed it, our asses probably graced it in one-way or another. But the kids were much younger then and our home was much bigger. It was easy to disguise the occasional 'bump in the night'. We couldn't do that now. And the fact that he didn't seem to care both worried and excited me.

"Remember the first time I bent you over your parent's kitchen island while they were at your father's company Christmas party?" he whispers into my ear.

I can only nod because at the same moment, he begins to tease me from behind with the tip of his member.

"You told me it was your first time experiencing that position. Remember that night?" This time, his pulsating head meets my slick opening and I almost collapse from the contact.

"I do," I manage to whisper.

"You begged me the next night to love you the same way. It was a bit difficult being that we were in the family room where Owen was asleep on the recliner facing away from us…but, we had the tufted long, sofa to ourselves."

He has one hand between my legs now as the other is pinching my nipple, all the while he is sliding himself between the cheeks of my derriere from behind. I don't know why he's intent on taking this trip down memory lane because I cannot concentrate on anything but his incessant hands.

"Mmhmm." Extending my arm up, I wrap it around his neck, holding him there in that small place where his baritone, sexy voice enters my ears and vibrates throughout my being, leaving me senseless.

"That was the night we conceived Zach." He drags his lips along my neck, his tongue leaving a wet trail. "Remember what you told me before I laid you over the arm of the sofa?" he asks, followed with a tug on my earlobe.

Through my fog, I angle my head back and look into his eyes, instantly remembering the words I know he badly wants me to say. Licking my lips, I'm sure that my voice is breathless and raspy, just the right tone he needs to hear to send him over.

"Fuck me, Mr. Florrick."

It seems to work like magic. His hands briefly leave their stations of tormenting me before he guides himself into me from behind. He stills his hips for a second once inside, allowing me a minute to adjust to him and the position. It doesn't take long before I wiggle my hips, signaling that I am ready.

Resting his hands on my waist, he grips the inward curves of my waist as he leisurely begins to retreat, and then enter again. I nearly fall over at the sensation. As much as I love being on top, I love this even more. He reaches places that make me beg for the unthinkable at this angle, that make me want to physically harm any woman that looks at him in that way.

He ushers us into a steady tempo, his hips beginning to occasionally rotate in a manner that make me whimper. I can't hold my body upright any longer. I practically tumble forward and lie along the cushioned ottoman. Peter only nudges my legs apart more before falling against my back and grabbing my hands. Stretching our arms above my head, he links our fingers together as he begins to propel deep and hard, in one fluid thrust. The force from his hips rocks me slightly along the furniture as my toes begin to curl. He's hitting that honey spot. And the sweet nothings he keeps murmuring in my ear tells me he knows it.

Our heights have us at a slight disadvantage in this position. But with him leaning against my back and having our upper bodies upstretched by way of our arms, it seems to make me more open to him, allowing for a perfect fit.

I squeeze his hands tighter, pretty certain that my knuckles are a ghostly white and I'm on the verge of breaking at least one of his fingers. My face is pressed so hard against the cushion, I am also certain that the design will be imprinted on my cheek once we're done, leaving a temporary tattoo. But I don't care.

"You're so sexy," he growls into my ear, followed by a cavernous plunge forward. My knees buckle from the intensity.

"Peter…I can't…" I can barely inhale and exhale to get my words out.

"Can't what?"

I want to cry at how good this feels. The tip of him is stroking a place that simply makes me faint. My entire body is flooded with a fire that begins in my toes and travels up to the crown of my head. I try to remember if it was as good as this the first time. Although I'm pretty convinced it was, this by far seems better.

"Hmm?" he asks again.

"I can't…be…q-quiet."

Unlinking one of our hands, he plants his free hand back between my thighs yet again. I'm sure I'm much too sensitive down there to handle anymore of his fondling for the night. But when he touches me in the most feather light ways, caressing spots I thought had retired, he proves me wrong when I feel a heated chill travel down my spine and then explode all throughout my core.

Burying my face into the cushion, I bring our linked hands to rests just over my heart as I scream into the fabric, hoping it muffles my cries. Apparently it doesn't quite do the job, for he quickly covers my mouth with his hand and lays his head against mine, until I quiet down. This cues him to pick up his pace and practically pound into me from behind. I can't take this. I'm freefalling with every passing second. I will never understand how he maintains so much control…maintains such ability to take me there, while he refrains.

"Oh god…"

He wraps his arm around my waist to hold me steady, preventing me from crumbling in a heap. "Let it go," he encourages, followed with a deep and hard jutting from his hips.

But I don't want to just yet. I want him to reach that place with me. Extending a free hand back, I reach down and hold his taut rump firmly against mine, keeping him there.

"Playing dirty now I see," he groans, quickening his pace.

I feel my orgasm beginning, as my body starts to convulse, and I am powerless to stop it. My face writhes against the textured material harshly, moving from side to side, the heat from my mouth creating a harsh and unpleasant friction. He holds me close as he puts in overtime to meet me there, to tumble right over with me, but I'm already gone.

My heart feels as if it's going to beat out of my chest as I nearly coil completely around him while continuing to ride out this powerful wave. It just won't stop. Nothing can stop the release he created. How I'm remaining quiet—at least I think I am—is beside me. But the fire surging through my veins, the backs of my legs practically glued to his strong thighs from behind and the non-stop ecstasy taking over my limbs are my utmost undoing.

And through my loss of sanity, do I feel him tumble into the ravine behind me. He squeezes me deathly tight, groaning, resounding in an animalistic noise that resembles a growl into the crevice of my neck as he spills himself inside. Our orgasms are never-ending. It feels like an eternity has elapsed before the electric shocks finally cease, the shaking slowly comes to a still, and we're left hunched over and breathless.

We're breathing hard and desperately gasping for air, both afraid to move. I'm certain I can't. He's going to have to carry me to bed.

"Tired?" he asks after a moment.

"Yes." My eyes are closed as I lay on top of this ottoman. I would be perfectly fine sleeping here tonight.

"I think the kids heard us," he jokes.

I'm too spent to care at the moment. "Better than us fighting."

"I love you." The hint of laughter in his voice warms my heart.

"I love you more," I say, returning his kiss.

"Alright, _now_, we can go to bed."

Finally disengaging our bodies, he takes a moment to adjust himself before grabbing a few tissues from the end table and handing them to me to clean between my legs. I tiredly do the simple task, smiling at his gesture, while he straightens the room.

I am afraid to look at myself in the mirror. My lips feel swollen and raw to the touch, the skin of my nose feels dry and peeled from the moving of my head back and forth against the tough fabric of the ottoman and my hair is more than likely a disheveled mess. As I look up at him, with his pants now on but unbuttoned and torso still shirtless, and hair tousled, I am a bit jealous at how ruggedly handsome he looks.

Unaware of the vain battle brewing inside of me, I ball the tissue up in my hand as he turns to wrap me in the afghan and lifts me up and into his arms. Wrapping my own arms around his neck, I kiss his cheek as I stare at our bedroom door, counting the seconds until I meet the cool sheets of the bed.

Glancing back at the darkened living room, I can't tell whether it's presentable to my liking or not. But wrapped in a blanket, in the comfort of my husband's arms, I choose not to worry. I simply make a mental note to do so in the morning before the kids get up.

As he journeys into our room and kicks the door shut behind him, I attempt to suppress the endless joy that threatens to fill me. What we just shared, truly felt as if we rediscovered each other. It gave me a sense of hope, like we're on our way back to being that girl and guy who took spur of the moment road trips and fell for one another within 2 weeks of dating.

Yes, Hawaii finally sounded nice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Peter's POV**

* * *

Turning off the light in the bathroom, I walk as stealthy as I can back to the bed. Peeling back the comforter, I slip beneath the sheets as quietly as possible, trying my best not to wake her. She was always a light sleeper. If I so much as turned over, she was usually rolling over right behind me. Carefully shifting my weight along the mattress, I relax back onto my side, facing her back, and pull the sheets back over us. I smile, thinking that she must be tired from our lovemaking a few hours ago that she didn't move a muscle. But as soon as I close my eyes, does her sleepy voice break my short lived victory.

"Peter?"

"Shh. Go back to sleep."

She rolls over to face me, her eyes still closed, and lays her head on my chest, in the small space where my neck ended and collar bone began. I'm shocked. We haven't cuddled like this in awhile. Even after we resumed these trysts, for lack of a better word, she always got what she wanted, then left. I was lucky to even get a kiss goodbye, but she always departed by flashing me a bright and contented smile, the swing of her hair the last thing I saw before the next time we were together. Of course, it bothered me to an extent. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the pillow talk and the warmth of her body pressed against mine as we simply enjoyed each other, for however long we wanted.

But the ball was still mostly in her court, and I was okay with that. For now.

Which for some reason I can't explain, do I roll onto my back and cautiously wrap my arm around her shoulders. Holding her closer against my side, I can't stop the smile that tugs at the corner of my lips when she rests her left hand over my heart. It felt like old times—as if everything was normal again. Many nights after we made love, she used to always fall asleep like this. In fact, she hated when I had to travel overnight for work because she had grown so accustomed to sleeping in my arms.

Staring down at her sleeping face, she seems so fragile but finally at peace. She's no longer that young girl who waited up for me in the late hours of the night after I came home from work, ready and willing, regardless of the hour, to listen to my day and squeeze in what she said was a desperately needed 'precious five minutes together' before we went to bed. Or that girl who drove nearly 4-hours to bring me my lucky suit for my first out of state case as an ASA, and even choosing to stay overnight and help advise me on some holes that were throwing me for a loop, when she had class the next day.

No, she's no longer that young, naive and terminally optimistic girl at Georgetown that I gathered up the courage to ask if she would like to have coffee at a Starbucks nearby while she waited for her next round of mock trials to begin. She has evolved into a woman over the years, a woman I am proud to hold in my arms and still be fortunate enough to call my wife.

The slight wrinkles around her eyes show the telltale signs of our time together. She used to fuss about them when they first appeared, until I convinced her she never looked more beautiful. And I meant that…I still do. To this day, when she walks into a room and struts my way, her eyes only on me, does everything around her seems to fade into smoke as she smiles that shy smile, taking my breath away. The older she grows, her beauty only enhances. I don't know how I became blind to such a detail over the years, but I did. I took her for granted. There was no way to right that wrong, not even our vow renewal would erase the hurt I brought upon her. All we could do was let time heal those wounds.

And as she lays against me, sleeping peacefully, I feel so undeserving to be able to share a moment like this with her. I took every part of her she gave me and just threw it away. I will never forgive myself for that. But she has. It's through her forgiveness that I'm learning to take this love she's offered, and give her all of me in return. Spending the rest of my life making it up to her will never be enough.

"What are you thinking?"

I nearly jump out of my skin at her voice. "I thought you were sleeping." I angle my head down to see her face; yep, her eyes are still closed.

"I can hear you thinking loud and clear." That's another thing I missed about us. We were so in sync. We never had to ask if something was troubling the other. We just sensed it or said it. She slides up some to rest her head on my shoulder and leans her head back, peering up at me. "What is it?" she asks so softly it's all I can do not to answer her.

"You." I run my index finger along her chin. "I was thinking about you."

Tucking her hand beneath her cheek, her eyes blink rapidly before opening fully. "Me? What about me?"

"About how you're such an amazing woman and how I'm damned lucky that you're still standing by my side."

She grows quiet and doesn't say anything initially. But I can tell my simple comment has stirred up emotions inside of her. Although we were back together, she hasn't hidden the fact that she's still struggling to be completely with me. Do I blame her? No. Does it frustrate the hell out of me that we can have a moment like we did in the family room hours ago and then have her clam up into a shell again? Hell yes. But who can I blame? That reality is the hardest of all to face.

"Well, if you keep wanting to act like we're 20-something and in love again, I'm afraid I may never leave, Mr. Florrick."

Her banter eases the tenseness in my back. "Hmm…then you might want to consider getting that IUD put back in."

She laughs that throaty, deep laugh that makes me feel like a young boy in a way. I love it.

"What time is it?"

I glance over at the clock on her nightstand. "Almost 3."

"Mmm…I've missed cuddling with you like this. It used to be so hard falling asleep without you next to me," she whispers against my chest.

Cradling her head, I scoot deeper under the covers, grabbing her thigh and resting it over my waist. Now, it is just like old times.

"Well, you don't have to worry. I'm not going anywhere."

"You know what I thought about a few weeks ago while I watched you during your debate with Maddie?"

Grinning, I lightly trail my fingertips along the smooth skin of her thigh, enjoying this unexpected pillow talk. "Hmm?"

"How much my father loved you." She runs her hand down my chest slowly, then moves it back up again. "He said, 'Alicia, that man is going to be very powerful one day'."

I chuckle at her attempt to mimic my deceased father-in-law. "Yeah, when I shared my hopes of becoming governor one day with him, he literally began to run a campaign for me. To this day, no one has believed in me as much as he did…except you."

She leans her head back to stare up at me, smiling brightly in the dim light. "I am my father's daughter."

"That you are." Angling my head down, I seek out her lips, surprised when she cups my face and widens her mouth, deepening our kiss for a matter of seconds before pulling back. "I thought you were tired."

"I am."

She smiles at me as she slithers her hand down the plane of my stomach to stop at the top of my boxers. Her fingernails glide along my abdomen in back and forth motions, the tickling making my stomach contract. It makes her laugh.

"But not that tired?" I'm not sure if I'm reading these signals clearly.

"Nu uh."

"Well, well, well. Aren't you a modern day Mrs. Jones."

She laughs heartily, her fingers now playfully lifting the band of my boxers, her hand disappearing beneath. "I try to keep you on your toes."

"Why don't you show me what else you got." Not missing a beat, I pull her atop me and bring her head down to mine.

She is still the only woman that I claim as being the best I've ever kissed. Sure, I had fun in my prime and was fortunate to meet some interesting women, some that could kiss, but most couldn't. As I think about it, none of them could compare to Alicia. I know men don't usually brag about these sorts of things, but damn it, my wife can kiss. She knows how to kiss me in a way that makes me lose all train of thought and become putty in her hands. It would explain the numerous expensive purchases she's made over the years, to which I've flat out said no, only to mumble a weak yes as she kissed her way out of me.

"We should get a two-story penthouse," she murmurs against my neck, her hips beginning a slow grind atop my erection. I place my hand on her waist, guiding her movement.

"That's what you want?"

"Maybe. I don't miss the maintenance of a home. Besides, Zach will be gone soon." She finally reaches inside of my boxers and frees me. The second her small hand strokes me, do I exhale a hiss.

"We can…look at some…" I bring her head back down to mine, our lips instantly attacking one another, tongues dueling for control. "I love your lips," I say when we break apart.

"Oh yeah?" There's that twinkle in her eyes again. Sitting atop me, holding me in her possession, she looks so young and carefree. It felt good to be like this with her again.

She begins to kiss her way down my body, beginning at my neck. I lay back, content to let her guide us in any direction she pleased, my hands grabbing a fistful of her hair as my growing excitement nearly pitches a tent beneath the covers.

"Mom?" My eyes flash to the door, glad to see it's closed. Of course, it's none other than Grace. Ever since she was a toddler, our youngest somehow always managed to pay us a visit in the middle of the night. Always.

"Mom, I don't feel so good." She knocks softly.

Groaning, I watch my wife drop her head onto my chest, sighing loudly before answering. I don't trust myself to speak. Instead, I float my hands up her naked back and coax her neck down to my greedy mouth.

"What is it, Grace?" Her hand wraps around my head, while she continues to rock her hips as I locate that spot just below her ear which drives her wild.

"My stomach hurts." She jingles the doorknob.

"How bad?"

"Bad. It's really bad cramps," she whines.

Her hips stop and mouth detaches from mine. When she presses her head against mine, do I realize the mood has been broken. So much for another round.

"Okay, I'll be out in a second," she calls to our daughter.

I watch her slim, naked frame climb from above me and out of the bed. My little girl finally entering the stages of womanhood was something I had suspected for some time now. Alicia never confirmed that she had gotten her cycle, and I never probed. I respected that some things us fathers, and men, just did not need to know, especially about our daughters. And I also respected the bond the two of them shared. But to now know, it hits me like a ton of bricks to realize she isn't so little anymore. Yes, i'm very aware that she's a teenager and probably has experienced things I never imagined she would. It's my protective nature that will always want her to remain the sweet baby girl that begged me to read her the same book every night and to sleep in my arms. Boy, time has flown by.

"I'll be right back." She climbs back onto the bed and crawls the short distance to where I lay, holding her silk robe together with one hand as she leans down and kisses me. "Don't fall asleep."

"Is she going to be alright?"

Her face softens at my question, a soft smile adorning her lips."Yes. I'm just going to give her some medicine. She will be fine."

It's on the tip of my tongue to discuss this revelation, but I know now is not the time.

"Mommmm!"

"Go. Make it quick."

Pecking her lips again, I watch her begin to scoot from the bed. Leaning up, I slide to the edge and steal a slap to her rump before she makes her way to the door.

She looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes low and sultry. I rub the bottom of my lip, watching as she opens the door to a hunched over Grace and quickly shoo's her from my line of sight. Rolling onto my back, I prop a hand beneath my head, grinning up into the ceiling, counting down the minutes until she returns.

* * *

_**A/N:**_I_ thought it would be a little interesting to shift the POV for a second before things take a turn for a bit. I don't know if it will be a continual shift between the two. I certainly don't want to confuse you all. But curious as to what you think. Would you like to see more from his perspective as well?_


	6. Chapter 6

"Peterrr?"

I hear what sounds like…Jackie, calling out for her son in a high pitched, sing-song voice. I'm most certain this is a dream. Why Jackie would be in my dreams is beyond me, but when I hear her call out his name again accompanied with light tapping on the bedroom door, I groan, realizing it's sadly, my reality.

Rolling over, I lift my tired and very sleepy head from the pillow and blink rapidly, trying to clear my blurred vision and adjust my eyes to the time on the clock sitting on my bedside table.

"Peter, Mr. Gold is on the phone!" She knocks harder this time.

It's 6:40 on a Sunday morning. What could Eli possibly want and why on earth is Jackie in my house this early?! And how does she know that Peter is in here? The infinity of questions tire me instantly. I flop back onto the bed and stare into the ceiling for a few minutes before slowly turning my head to the right, my eyes instantly filled with the image of my undisturbed slumbering husband who slides closer to me, the dead weight of his arm draped over my waist feeling like cement.

She knocks again and I close my eyes. I know I should answer her, but I'm honestly too tired to deal with Jackie this morning. Our early morning lovemaking after I sent Grace to bed has me beyond exhausted and sore in places that once were so flexible and unchained.

"Peter," I whisper, followed with a nudge to his chest. He mumbles something that I can't understand before pulling me closer. "Peter, no. Wake up," I say louder.

"Did you not hear me?!"

My eyes bolt to the door as Jackie now stands in the flesh, her hands firmly planted on her hips as she stares at us in the bed, livid. Well, my question of whether we forgot to lock the door last night has been answered.

I sit up, startled, before glancing down my body. A breath of relief floats from my lips as I quickly pull the sheets up to my neck, semi-grateful that I'm clothed in a negligee.

"Jackie, what are you doing here?!"

"I came to make breakfast. I thought I would help you out with all the chaos going on with the election tomorrow. While I was in the kitchen, Peter's phone kept ringing, so I answered it." She moves her gaze to her son who slowly sits up and leans against the headboard, finally deciding to join us. "Mr. Gold is adamant that he speaks with you, Peter."

Holding his head within his hand, his grunt of displeasure tells me he's just as annoyed as I am."Tell him I'll give him a call back in a few minutes, mom."

"No. You come take of business," her eyes shift between us followed with a look of exasperation, "once you're finished here!"

She turns her head up and storms out, almost slamming the door behind her. It's very clear to me she's not happy about us being together. The mere thought of having to deal with her wrath once I leave the safety of my bedroom is enough to make me want to lock myself in this room. I lower my head within my hands and close my eyes. What did I do to deserve this life?

"I want you to get the house key from her," I tell him as he gets out of bed and begins walking towards the closet.

He had let her use his spare key a couple of weeks ago when she had forgotten and left hers again after picking up Grace to take her to bible study. I'm not surprised in the least that she never gave it back and that he never bothered to ask for it back.

"She was just relaying a message, Alicia. No need to start a war. You know Mom loves coming to see the kids."

"And to make my life hell! I just know," I peel back the covers and crawl towards the edge of the bed, "as soon as we go out there, she's going to give us a speech about our marriage."

I always wondered what Jackie thought when Peter's infidelities came to light. We never particularly had a heart-to-heart on the matter. Not that I wanted to. But apart of me felt she was…happy. For it meant she had Peter back to herself, back in her good graces while I resented him from the sidelines. Where she's always secretly resented me. Over the years, she was forced to like me, and possibly even grew to love me. But our passive-aggressive relationship was inevitable when Peter chose me. Then, and now.

He finds a t-shirt and a pair of his pajama pants I somehow forgot to pack with his other belongings when I moved him out, which were being kept in a bottom drawer. Slipping them on, he sighs heavily as he turns to face me.

"My mother's intentions are good."

I narrow my eyes on him. "Why must you always defend her to me?"

Walking towards my position, he presses his fists into the comforter on either side of me as he leans down, hovering above my face. "I am not defending her. I love both of you," his eyes roam over my scantily clad body, lingering on my legs before matching my eyes again. "But, maybe you a little bit more."

He pecks my lips, and then casually leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I sit in the same spot, baffled. This was one issue Peter and I needed to get under control if we planned to start afresh: our invasive mothers. Sure, Jackie was the perfect set of hands when I first began working and the children were younger. But now, I didn't need her help. And I was tired of her randomly popping up at my home.

Leaping from the bed, I walk into the bathroom to freshen myself for the day, determined not to let Jackie cause anymore unwanted chaos.

* * *

"Okay, thanks, Eli."

Wrapping my robe tighter around myself, I cautiously walk into the kitchen to see Peter standing at the island, scrolling through his phone as Jackie is cooking something at the stove. Pancakes, maybe? The familiar looking batter filling a clear glass bowl beside the griddle makes me hope so. Her pancake recipe is to die for. She's in my apron, wearing one of her usual motherly outfits with her hair held back by a headband. It makes me laugh as I recall when I first met her, I wanted to be like her so bad. I wanted be half the mother she was. Boy, was I naïve and young then.

Glancing towards the coffee pot, I am relieved to find it full with the black liquid I desperately needed to make it through this morning.

"Everything okay?" I ask my husband, grabbing a mug and quickly filling it.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Just rumor control."

"Well, I'm certain the press would be happy to see what I have seen," Jackie says as she gives me an icy look.

And there it is. My mouth drops open in disbelief. Careful not to slam the pot back onto the burner, I pick up my cup and walk towards her, prepared to give her a piece of my mind.

"Is there some—"

"Honey, uh, did you and the kids have anything planned for today?"

I whip around to face Peter, knowing what he was doing. I continue to eye Jackie as I speak. "Not that I can think of. Why?"

"I was wondering if later on, we could go look at a couple of houses."

Why did he mention that in front of his mother, who is clearly hanging onto our every word? After Peter speaks, she always looks to me, waiting with baited breath for what I'm going to say. I'm sure she's dying to know the details of how we went from being separated to normal again, right under her nose. Although I'm positive she's mostly glad that we have worked things out. Her precious son's political image will remain in tact as long as I'm by his side, smiling and supporting him as is expected.

"Sure."

Bringing the steaming mug to my lips, I let my irritation go for now and walk to his position at the island and sit in one of the chairs. I just need a moment. It's much too early to deal with my in-law.

"Well," Jackie laughs nervously, "I think I should say I was very surprised to find the two of you together in bed."

I groan and lower my head to the countertop.

"Mom, please. Not now."

She removes a pancake from the griddle and quickly abandons making breakfast, choosing to interrogate us instead. "What are you going to tell the children?"

"That's not for you to worry about," Peter answers.

"You know I don't want them getting hurt, or you, son. You're so close to becoming governor."

I lift my head at her words, knowing exactly where this is headed. "Okay, you two can finish this conversation about _me_ while I go get dressed. Just don't wake the kids, alright?"

Grabbing my mug, I glare at Peter, giving him a look that says he better take care of this before I retreat to the bedroom.

* * *

Standing within the closet, I'm clothed in nothing but my bra and jeans, searching for a shirt when he returns to the bedroom, and closes the door, locking it behind him.

"Hun, don't be upset," he says, carefully walking towards my position.

I roll my eyes at him, choosing not to respond as I continue hunting for a shirt. Jackie is like my mother on antidepressants. Regardless if the subject matter is big or small, they both, completely drive me crazy!

"Are you upset?" he asks, now wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

"No. She was there for me in a time that I most needed. I must remember that."

"Mhm," he mumbles against my neck as he begins to unbutton my jeans.

I slap his hand away. "No, I need a break."

"But I need a little good luck before election night. I probably won't see you until tomorrow evening."

Turning within his arms, I rest my hands on his shoulders and gaze up at him in all seriousness, remembering what he said to Zach last night at dinner.

"Why don't you think you will win?"

Sighing, he walks from me and sits in the chair at my vanity. Grasping my hand, he pulls me to sit within his lap, turning us to face the mirror.

"I think I'm too old for this." He strokes his chin as he analyzes the gray stubble on his face. "Yeah?"

Laughing, I cup his face and kiss his cheek. "If what you did last night was considered old, then I can't wait to see what you do when you're senile and ancient."

He smiles softly, locking onto my eyes in our reflection. "For the first time, I'm a little scared, Alicia."

My heart breaks at his confession. I've often seen him stressed during this campaign. He always brushed it off and never let me see when he was knocked down, not having a clue how to overcome the stumbling block in his way. Every time I asked what was wrong, he told me it was nothing. He wouldn't allow me to comfort and reassure him then. I know without a doubt he needs that from me right now.

"The public loves you. You ran a clean office when you were the State's Attorney for a second time. And besides, we have _The_ Eli Gold on our side. So, don't worry_, old man_," I tease before placing a kiss to his lips.

Reaching for my ring set on the mirrored tray, he stops me before I can slip them on and seizes it into his possession. He ignores my curious look as he twirls the jewelry within his hand.

"I've been thinking. If I don't win, I can just be chair of the democratic committee. That offer is still on the table. We can spend two weeks instead of one in Hawaii, buy a house wherever you want and I'll be the husband who takes care of home while you work the long hours."

I'm a bit taken aback. It's as if he's already given up the fight before the last round. He never quits. Whether he wins or loses, he never gives up.

"Peter, what aren't you telling me?"

He sighs heavily, his shoulders dropping as the wind leaves his body. I can tell he doesn't want to answer this question. In fact, he's probably been avoiding revealing this tidbit of information to me.

"New poll numbers came out. I'm losing by 12%."

"Wh—" I can't even think. "How—"

"I know." He nods slowly. "I don't want to go into the details right now. I just wanted to prepare you for tomorrow night if things don't go as planned. And to let you know, that I still want to move forward and rebuild our life together."

Planting a kiss between my breasts, I watch as he first slides my wedding band onto my ring finger, then the new engagement ring he gave me. Bringing my hand to his lips, he closes his eyes and kisses it. "Regardless of what happens, I love you."

I'm truly at a loss for words. "I love you, too," I manage to finally say.

He leans his head against my chest, wrapping his arms around my waist as I cradle him close. I observe our reflection in the mirror when he closes his eyes. The feeling of uncertainty, about everything, washes over me in an instant. I can't help but wonder what this all means. I had never given any thought as to what if he didn't win. My husband was a winner. He was bred into a family of winners. Sure he had his set backs, but Peter was like a phoenix who continuously rose from the ashes to triumph.

As much as I didn't want to admit it, he thrived from that power. Being chair of a democratic committee would not be enough for him deep down, I knew. How would he handle taking such a loss and being _just_ a husband and father? Although the idea that we will possibly have some sense of normalcy again is nice, I am more scared as to what that normalcy will do to us and our family. More importantly, to him.


End file.
